


Fifty Shades of RomCom

by meh_guh



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, First Time, M/M, meet cute, rom com AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers's life is pretty good. He's got a job he loves, a house in his favourite part of the best city in the world, his best friends. He's happy, even if it's not the most exciting life.</p><p>All that changes when Tony Stark appears in the youth centre Steve runs. The spark is immediate and mutual, but they're from two vastly different worlds.</p><p>So the question bugging Steve now is: can the most famous movie star in the world fall for an ordinary guy?</p><p>A Notting Hill AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Something Out of a Richard Curtis Flick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mirianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirianna/gifts), [abigaelcassandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigaelcassandra/gifts).



> Now, I've done as much googling as I could, but if there's anyone who is familiar with Brooklyn who notices some egregious error, please let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> Huge holla to Mirianna and Abigaelcassandra for prompting, cheerleading, beta, and just general awesomeness. <3<3<3
> 
> The genesis for this was the poster Miranna made, so once Tumblr's back up go check it out! http://miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirianna.tumblr.com/post/30468501326 It's beautiful, and you should absolutely go tell her so ^_^

                                                                   

Of course I've seen his films, even the abysmal version of Northanger Abbey which reputedly made about three dollars at the box office. Even in that, I though he was fabulous. And a million miles from where I lived, which is Williamsburg, here in Brooklyn.

It's not a bad place to live; there's always something going on. There's the shopfront which has changed hands eighteen times over the past two years, housing everything from an antiques store to a weekly self-help seminar presented by whoever chooses to turn up.

A tattoo parlour staffed entirely by girls in their early twenties with big smiles and shaved heads, who have to spend a good hour every Monday cheerfully correcting and improving on the graffiti that springs up over the weekend. I've tried offering to help, but they insist it's a highlight of their week.

And then suddenly it's the weekend again, and there are people _everywhere_ , a riotous sprawl of colours and personalities of all kinds shouting and laughing and _living_.

It's a wonderful place, this village in a city of eight million; and what makes everything even more wonderful is how many friends have settled here.

There's Natasha, ballerina-turned-restauranteur whose pierogi bring people from all over Brooklyn to let her snarl abuse at them. Doesn't hurt that she's the most beautiful woman I've ever met.

There's her husband, Bucky. My best friend growing up and through the army, who helps out with the youth centre twice a week when he isn't manning the desk at the tiny independent record store down the street.

Wade, who... is not easy to explain; my main assistant at the youth centre when he isn't off doing whatever it is that keeps the kids quiet and wary around him.

I live right in the middle of this melting pot of people, in a house with a blue door which I bought with my wife before she ran off with a man who looked exactly like Tom Cruise, only saner; leaving me with a house and half her wardrobe. This is where I now lead a strange half-life with a room mate called...

'Clint!' I kicked at the broken bike blocking the entry, wrestling the groceries past it and into the kitchen. 'Clint! How many times do I have to ask you to move that bike?'

Clint, when he appeared, was covered in cobwebs. This usually means he's been crawling through the attic and into the neighbours' storage spaces looking for 'something cool'.

'Steve!' he batted at his chest, sending up a cloud of dust. 'I need your advice!'

'Uh-huh,' I started putting things away. 'Shoot.'

Instead of acting like a normal person (and it _would_ be an act), Clint pelted out of the kitchen. I could hear his heavy footsteps racing up the stairs and into his room, barely pausing before thundering back down. I heard him stop in the doorway, obviously posing, so I turned.

'Ah,' I blinked at his t-shirt, bearing the words **Get It Here** and an arrow pointing towards his crotch. 'And the occasion is...?'

He grinned. 'I wore Sameh down. He agreed to go out with me tonight.'

'Great,' I jiggled a box of Clint's Cheerios in my hand, trying to find the right words. 'Doesn't really scream _romance_ , does it?'

Clint frowned, pulling the shirt out from his body to squint at it. 'You think it should?'

'Well,' I shrugged. 'Depends on your intentions. You want this to be more than a one-off?'

Clint made a thoughtful noise and wandered off again.

****

SHIELD was a bit run-down, the basketball hoops outside more than a little bent and the yard not much more than scrubby grass, but the kids were really good about keeping it neat. It made me smile with pride every time I came in. I had to do a bit of twisting, juggling a tray of coffees and a folder full of paperwork to get the keys in the door, but just as I was about to drop the lot, Peter appeared to grab the coffee.

'Hey, Mr Rogers!' he grinned, shoving his bangs out of his eyes. 'Need a hand?'

'It hurts me so when you make these offers to other guys,' Wade moaned from above us. He was dangling by his feet from the sign above the door, and I had to close my eyes and count to ten.

'You aren't covered by our insurance if you break your neck doing that,' I managed eventually, ignoring Peter's furious blush. I finally got the door open, and Wade let go, turning mid-air to land on his feet. 'I'm not sure I want to give you caffeine if you're in that sort of mood already.'

Wade gave me a crooked grin, snatching the keys out of the door and racing around to unlock all the rest of the centre.

'You know,' I said to Peter as I went to boot up the computer and shove half-heartedly at the piles of paper already in my in tray. 'If you're uncomfortable with Wade, I can do something. God knows no one would blame you if you were.'

Peter flushed a little darker, burying his face in the cup marked 'caramel macchiato'. 'It's fine, Mr Rogers. He doesn't really bother me.'

I shrugged. 'Offer to listen stands. Can I get you to go check the equipment cupboard and then take down anything out of date or lewd on the notice board?'

'Sure thing!' Peter bounced away, and I got down to working my way through the in tray.

****

An hour after the morning rush had moved on to school (at least, that was where I _told_ them to go, and none of them ever contradicted me), I was back in the office, listening to Wade following Peter around as he tidied up, the two of them bantering like something out of a Richard Curtis movie. Since neither of them could see me, I grinned at the desktop. It was either going to be the most adorable love story or a hilarious train wreck. I was putting my money on 'adorable'.

There was a crashing sound from the foyer as the door slammed open, and a figure in torn jeans, huge sunglasses and a tank top came hurtling into the office and threw himself under my desk.

I blinked, opened my mouth to ask what he thought he was doing, but was interrupted by the door slamming open again. I scowled, standing up. SHIELD didn't have the money to get the door fixed if some idiot broke it.

When I got to the doorway, I found a rat-faced man with an expensive-looking camera creeping around. He kept bending to peer under tables and squinting through the doors to the kitchenette and the multi-purpose rooms.

'Can I _help_ you?' I demanded, checking surreptitiously that the other guy wasn't visible from the foyer.

'Just looking for a friend,' the guy said, sneaking around the notice board whipping the curtain out of the way to take a photo of the wall. 'Don't suppose you saw-'

'This is a community centre, sir,' I folded my arms to display my muscles. Not something I enjoy doing, but it has been known to be effective. 'I don't think you're a member of this community. And this is private property. I think you should leave.'

He looked at me for the first time, eyes going round in a pettily-satisfying way. 'Now wait a minute-'

I gave up, and marched forward to put him in an arm lock. 'You are not welcome here. If you're still outside in ten minutes, I'm calling the police.'

He struggled a bit as I threw him out, shouting some pretty filthy things, but he didn't try and come back in.

'OK then,' I closed the door and leant against it for a moment. 'Right. Now what was that about?'

I went back to the office, grinning a little because the guy under my desk's butt was sticking out. A _very_ nice butt it was, too. Especially when it wriggled as he backed out from under the desk, brushing large, competent-looking hands over his jeans and then standing up to offer his hand.

'Oh shit,' I said blankly, mouth dropping open. 'You're-'

He grinned, and it was even more overwhelming in person. 'Tony Stark,' he said just as I blurted out 'Absolutely perfect!'

I could feel my blush starting at around knee level, and he _still_ had his hand out, so I grabbed my chance and his hand. 'I'm sorry, that must sound pretty mad. It's just, I'm a huge fan Mr Stark-'

'Please,' his smile slid into something a little more personal. 'Handsome men who save me from the paparazzi get to call me Tony. It's in every one of my contracts. In fact, it might be a law.'

'Er,' I blinked a few times, only registering the fact that I was still pumping his hand when his grin widened again and he glanced down. I let go. 'Um, I'm Steve.'

'Steve,' he drew my name out, and wow. Inappropriate erection. 'Do you mind terribly if I use your phone? I seem to have destroyed mine.'

He held up a sleek phone with a gigantic crack running the length of the screen.

'Certainly,' I shuffled around him, trying to will my erection away and failing miserably. 'It's just over here.'

He raised his eyebrows, taking his shades off and shoving them in a pocket. 'Landline? You are _old school_ , Steve. How'm I supposed to surreptitiously give you my number if I can't slip it into your contacts? How'm I supposed to get your number if I can't text myself from your phone? You're making this needlessly complicated.'

'I...' I could feel my eyes going round. 'I.. I've never had a cell? Why would you want to give me your number? I mean-'

Tony gave me the hottest once-over I've ever seen aimed at anyone, eyes going half-lidded when he caught sight of the tenting in my pants.

'Don't own a mirror?' he enquired, slinking forward and crowding me against the desk. He set his hands on either side of my hips and leaned close so his goatee tickled my jaw. 'Why do you _think_ I would want to give you my number?'

I groaned, tilting my head to slant our lips together and bringing a hand up to tangle in his hair. Tony kissed like a man on a mission, all dedicated focus and expert technique, and-

'Hey Steve!' Wade called from the foyer. 'There's some guy with a camera hanging from the fence by his underpants! You wanna come see?'

Tony sprang back, chest heaving in time with mine and looking a little terrified. 'I'd better make that phone call.'

'Sure,' I edged out of the way, sucking in a hard breath as I saw him press his hand against a matching bulge in his own pants. 'I'd better go see what Wade's done to your stalker.'

'Hey, I wouldn't put it past him to get _himself_ hooked on a fence,' Tony replied, picking up the handset and frowning at the cord. 'It's not even cordless? Wow, this is just such a flashback to 1995.'

'No head cancer for me,' I grinned. 'And if you knew Wade, you'd understand that these things are _always_ his fault. He's the only person I've ever met who _gangs_ will cross the street to avoid. So. Um... I'll just leave you to it?'

Tony smiled again before turning his attention to the phone. I stared for a long moment, wanting to lock this image in my memory, then I went out to find out what Wade had done to the (probably deserving) paparazzo.

****

Wade had somehow managed to get a guy who had to weigh 30 pounds more than him ten feet off the ground to hang him by his boxers from the chicken wire fence around the basketball court. It was unexpectedly tempting to leave him there, but I quashed the urge and went to fetch a ladder.

Half an hour later, the whole time filled with the photographer's angry promises to get his lawyers involved, he was on his way again. I sighed, made Wade put the ladder away and returned to the office to find it empty. Depressing, but expected. At least I had that one kiss to remember...

As I dropped into my chair, I caught sight of a post it note stuck to the monitor of my computer. I peeled it off, squinting at the terrible handwriting.

**'Steve. Gotta scoot, things to do. Call me 212-468-7876. T'**

I felt my mouth drop open. Tony Stark's phone number. I had _Tony Stark's phone number_.

Oh my _God_.

****

I hardly noticed anything about the rest of the day, too hazy with disbelieving lust to be any help as Wade and Peter sorted out referees and players and all the usual after-school business of running SHIELD.

Six o'clock came and went, Wade drifting off to wherever it was he went when he wasn't stalking Peter or working. Peter stuck his head around the door a few minutes later.

'Am I right to leave?' he grinned at me, and drummed his fingers on the door frame. 'Just sent Luke and the Fearsome Foursome off to fetch cleaning supplies; they should be done scrubbing the multi-purpose room by seven thirty.'

I winced. 'Do I want to know what they managed to do?'

'Nah,' Peter nodded towards my desk. 'I think you want to phone Dark, Dirty and Delicious and go enjoy yourself for once.'

I could feel the blush starting at around knee-level. Clearly Peter had no idea who Tony (I was on first name terms with _Tony Stark_! I goggled to myself) was, and he was right. He was only 17, though. It's never comfortable taking romantic advice from someone younger than you, but a teenager?

'You get going,' I muttered, waving a hand. 'If you could lock the back door first, though?'

'Gotcha, Cap,' Peter flipped a salute (terrible form, my inner drill instructor grouched) and left. I pulled the top drawer open to stare at the post it again. Should I call? He'd left his number, so he must _want_ me to call.

The foyer echoed with the sounds of Luke and his posse coming back, cat-calling each other and starting an impromptu fencing match with the mops. I considered going to break it up, but they _were_ some of the more responsible boys. A little tomfoolery wasn't going to kill anyone.

I chewed on my lip, a nervous tic I hadn't really indulged in since grade school. I looked at the clock, then back to the post it. Six thirty was probably a good time to call; too early for dinner, too late for most business-hours things. Before I could talk myself out of it, I snatched up the phone and dialled.

'Hello?' Tony's voice purred on the other end. 'This looks like a landline number, not sure I know many people who still use a _landline_ -'

'Hi,' I, well. I squeaked. 'It's Steve? From earlier today? I... you left your number, so I called-'

'Left it a few hours though, didn't you?' he sounded like he was smiling. 'Playing it cool with the feckless movie star?'

'No!' I winced at my automatic shout. 'Sorry, sorry. Uh... so you managed to stay away from that guy?'

He chuckled, and there was the sound of movement. 'Haven't seen him,' he hummed, and it sent a shiver down my spine. 'Might have to steal that Wade kid from you for my security team.'

That startled a laugh out of me. 'Well, I'd say you're welcome to him, but I'd like to see you again and I'm pretty sure if I foisted Wade off on you, you'd move to Canada to stay clear of me.'

'Tomorrow good for you?'

I blinked at the phone, pulling it away from my ear to stare for a moment. 'Um, pardon?'

'To see me again,' Tony clarified. 'If you can break away from your hectic schedule around one PM, I'll have some free time then.'

I swallowed, pants suddenly a little uncomfortable. 'Uh, yes? That should be workable. I'll need to be back by three, but I can do that.'

Tony hummed again, the sound catlike and very sexy. 'I'll be at the Alkali Lakes Hotel, the Presidential Suite.'

'Alkali Lakes,' I repeated dutifully, typing it into Google for the address. 'One PM. Got it.'

'I'll see you then, Steve,' Tony drew my name out like it was something dirty, and the line went dead.

I sat there for a long time, phone still pressed to my ear.

****

The next morning, I was so distracted even Wade noticed. He kept shooting me quizzical grins and offering to go on a coffee run, but I really didn't want to be on a caffeine high when I met Tony; the nerves would be bad enough.

'Fine,' I said the thirty-seventh time he offered. 'I'll have an iced tea.'

'Long Island style, boss?' he grinned and shot off before I could reply. I ran my hands over my chinos, smoothed my hair for the third time in ten minutes and resolutely did _not_ look at the clock.

Wade reappeared with a cup full of something which smelled like paint stripper, so I thanked him and tipped it down the sink the moment he got distracted by Peter. A little paperwork and defusing three fights between kids who'd taken their lunch breaks at SHIELD (not exactly kosher, but I was willing to look the other way) took it to 12.20. I grabbed a pack of mints, snagged my wallet and keys and ran out, shouting to Peter to look after the place for an hour.

****

Alkali Lakes was a really expensive looking boutique hotel, huge old gates with willows bracketing the door. I did one more check of my breath, hair and clothes, then pulled the door open. I had to step back as another man brushed past me, nodding his thanks for the door.

The desk was occupied by a man with rather more and messier facial hair than I would have expected, the glare he turned on me extremely belligerent. I blinked, and headed for the elevator. The man from the door trailed behind me after staring at the concierge for a moment. The car arrived, and we got in, me pressing the button for the fifth floor.

'You?' I asked over my shoulder.

'Same, he said, shrugging.

I watched the lights tick over to the fifth floor, and followed the signs to the Presidential Suite. The man followed me, all the way to the door.

'You're sure this is it?' I asked, confusion warring with irritation. I was going to be quite annoyed if this was some sort of prank.

'Oh yes,' he leaned past me to rap on the door, which opened to show a beautiful strawberry blonde in towering heels and a dove grey pants suit.

'We're just starting up, gentlemen,' she said, holding out a dossier of some sort to each of us. 'If you'd care to follow me?'

I stared down at Tony's face, smouldering out from what looked like a movie poster. ' _Apokalips_ ' it said, ' _Can **you** fight the fury?_ '.

I looked up from the picture to see the suite was _filled_ with men and women, all glued to their cells and flicking through the dossier with bored expressions. Oh hell, had Tony-

'Sorry,' the strawberry blonde tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned, fighting a blush. 'I forgot to check you off; which one are you?'

'Er,' I blinked, my mind gone to white noise.

'Which magazine are you representing?' she clarified, a note of amusement in her tone.

I admit it: I panicked. I said the first title which came into my head. 'Better Homes and Gardens,' well, at least it wasn't Redbook, I told myself.

She blinked, tilting her head a little, then just smiled. 'All right then. If you'd like to take a seat-'

'Um,' I glanced around. 'I think Mr Stark might be expecting me? My name's Steve Rogers.'

'I'll go check, Mr Rogers,' she said, still smiling as she turned and strode away.

'Better Homes and Gardens?' someone; the man who'd come in with me asked from behind me. 'Didn't realise they _had_ a films section.'

'It's a trial thing,' I replied. 'They thought this film would, um, resonate with their readers.'

His face twisted, and I gave an inner cheer for Peter and Wade and the training they'd inadvertently given me in using madness to disarm people. Before he could untangle his thoughts, the strawberry blonde returned.

'Mr Rogers,' she slipped a hand around my elbow. 'Mr Stark is waiting.'

The room she showed me into had two features I was desperately interested in: Tony and an extensive wet bar. Normally I don't drink as a rule, but I was feeling the urge all of a sudden.

'Tony,' the strawberry blonde said, her tone suddenly a lot sharper than it had been. 'I can only give you ten minutes, and you owe me select items from this year's spring line. To be decided upon when I've attended the shows; and _yes_ , you will be buying my tickets.'

'Pepper,' Tony grinned, and it was even more brilliant and disarming than I remembered. 'You know you love me, really.'

Pepper snorted and slammed the door on her way out.

'Uh,' I took a few steps forward, stopping in the middle of the carpet. 'I don't-'

Tony turned fluorescently blue eyes towards me. 'I'm so sorry, Steve. I really thought this would all be over _hours_ ago.'

I felt my shoulders untwist with relief. 'Oh, that's fine. I just managed to pretend to be Better Homes and Gardens' staff movie reviewer, but it could have been worse.'

'Yeah,' Tony grinned, waving me into a seat. 'You could have blanked on anything even remotely respectable and said Cosmo.'

I had to stifle my laugh as the door cracked open to let a mild-looking man in a grey suit stick his head in. 'Everything going well?'

'Fine,' Tony slung a leg over the arm of his chair, leaning back. 'It's going swell, don't you think?'

'Would you, um,' I scrabbled for a question. 'Were there any recipes in the movie you would... recommend our, um, readers to recreate?'

'Considering the only eating scene _in_ this film was my screen-dad being chowed down on by Danny, I'd have to go with no on that one, Alex. Unless you're looking for Halloween ideas, in which case I can certainly get Wanda from the effects team to give you a run down on proper blood splatter and realistic representations of organs.'

'Right,' I licked my lips, and Tony's eyes locked on my mouth. I was just aware of the door snicking closed. 'Look, this is going to be awful trying to talk here. Are you busy tonight?'

Tony raised an eyebrow. 'Yes.'

'Right,' I ran a hand over my hair. 'Of course. Uh, how about tomorrow?'

Tony looked me over, gaze pausing a few times and ratcheting my pulse up to a thunder.

'I can do tomorrow,' he said eventually.

'Great,' I grinned, then I remembered. 'Oh blast! It's my sister's birthday dinner tomorrow night.'

'That's OK,' Tony said, and I could just _feel_ the opportunity slipping away. 'I-'

'No, it's fine,' I said quickly. 'I'll reschedule her present. It's hardly a landmark birthday-'

'No,' Tony said, half-smiling. 'I meant I'll be your date there. If that's OK?'

'If that's...' I stared at him, too shocked to respond.

'If it's a close friends and family only deal,' Tony looked away. 'I underst-'

'No!' I jerked forward in my seat. 'If you're sure you want to, then that's perfect!'

'Good,' his smile was even more blinding than before. 'Great.'

'So I'll-'

The door opened again, and Pepper stuck her head around. 'Time for one more question, Tony, then we really have to move on.'

I blanked again, and all I managed to come up with was 'You are Better Homes and Gardens' favourite actor, Mr Stark. Have you got anything you'd like to say to your fans?'

Tony smiled, and this one was a blander PR sort of a smile. The difference between this one and the one he'd given me before gave me a warm, fluttery feeling. 'I'd just like to say that I think you're fantastic, and I look forward to seeing as much and as many of you as often as possible.'

Pepper herded me out after that, muttering something about 'the others' before directing me into another room and closing the door behind me. I caught sight of a wispy little girl perched on the edge of a chair, a woman I presumed to be her mother standing behind and to one side.

'Ah,' I took a seat in the chair opposite her. Clearly I wasn't out of the fake-reporter woods yet. 'Hello, I'm Steve.'

'Kitty,' the girl said, and I had to admire her poise. 'Pleasure to meet you.'

'Right,' I glanced at her mother. 'Er, was this your first film?'

The mother sniffed, and Kitty smiled. 'Oh no. It's my twenty-third.'

'Wow,' I stared at her. She couldn't have been more than ten. 'How did working on this one stand up to your other experiences?'

Kitty tilted her head. 'Director Fury was fun to work with. And I liked getting to do the whole special make-up thing.'

'Did you have a favourite scene?' I was rapidly running out of questions. I really hoped 'the others' turned out to be just Kitty.

She thought for a moment. 'Tearing Danny's head off. I got absolutely _covered_ in gore, but they make it out of corn syrup,' she leaned in like she was imparting a great secret. 'It tastes real sweet.'

Wow. I was _never_ getting the image of this tiny child licking blood off a severed head out of my mind. Luckily I was saved from finding a response by Pepper dragging me into another room.

I ended up meeting Danny Rand, Carol Danvers, Erik Lensherr and Jen Walters as well as Kitty and Tony. I'm not sure how many more mistakes I could have made. I asked Danny Rand how much he'd sympathised with his character, feeling quite proud of myself for the question until he pointed out that a flesh-eating robot is pretty unsympathetic. I somehow managed to confuse Carol Danvers with Madeline Pryor, complimenting Carol on Madeline's Oscar. As it turns out, the two women _hate_ each other. Erik Lensherr was just plain terrifying, and I don't think I managed more than one question. Jen Walters was great, though. Bucky had been a huge fan of her's when she was working the WWF circuit, so at least there I had something to fall back on. Even got her autograph for him, which should win me at least some leeway for turning up at his house with a world-famous movie star tomorrow night.

When I finally managed to slink out, it was close to three o'clock. I stared despairingly up at the light fitting outside Tony's suite for a moment before heading for the elevator.

Drained as I was, I still felt fantastic; Tony Stark was going to be my date to Bobbi's birthday. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I punched the air and let out a whoop.

Tony Stark!


	2. A Beautiful Mindlessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Mirianna and Abby: all the thanks to you guys!
> 
> Chapter title is because I'm tired and a play on 'A Beautiful Mind' was the cleverest thing I could think of *shrug*

Tony met me at SHIELD the next evening, carrying a colourfully-wrapped box and wearing a suit.

'Hi,' I said, glancing back through the foyer to make sure Wade and Peter weren't watching. 'Uh, do you mind if we go past my place? I need to change.'

Tony smirked and gestured for me to lead the way.

'So your sister,' he said when we rounded the corner. 'How old is she turning?'

'She's instructed me that the answer to that question is "thirty-mrfl",' I grinned, slanting glances at Tony as we walked. He had his hands in his pockets and he kept a good foot between us, but his strides matched mine. 'And will remain the answer for the next twenty years.'

Tony laughed and knocked his shoulder into mine. 'Is she anything like you?'

I thought about it. Bobbi's father had married my mother when we were both very small, and most people thought we were blood siblings, but 'She's a lot more boisterous than me,' I said, shooting Tony a small smile. 'She used to beat up the guys at school who bullied me.'

'Bullied _you_?' Tony raised his eyebrows, looking me up and down. 'Did you go to school with titans?'

I dug my keys out as we approached my house. 'I was an eighty pound sickly thing until I hit a growth spurt in sophomore year. Put on eight inches and doubled my weight in a year.'

'Ow,' Tony winced. 'That can't have been comfortable.'

'Not very,' I agreed, pushing the door open and waving him ahead of me. 'You want some coffee or water or something while you wait?'

He waved the offer off and started prowling around the living room, peering at the assorted photos, paintings and knick-knacks which were scattered around. I took the stairs three at a time, yanking my shirt over my head as I went, and jumped in the shower to rinse off all the accumulated grottiness of a day spent trying to corral teenagers and Wade into productive activities.

A quick rub-n-scrub and a spritz of the cologne Bobbi gave me last Christmas later, I rushed back downstairs, grabbing a jacket from the coat rack.

Tony was staring at my print of Klee's "Captive". It was more than a little battered, having been rescued from the dumpster at the last minute when my wife had been angry-cleaning and hadn't realised she'd thrown it out. Its cheap frame was cracked, the print had several ugly creases and a large rip, but going to that exhibition was the last thing my mother and I had done together before she got sick.

'So, we should probably get going,' I said, picking up Bobbi's present from the couch. Clint had wandered off without his too, so I tucked it under my arm as well. 'It's just around the corner.'

'Living in each others' pockets, huh?' Tony turned that beautiful smile towards me again and brushed past me to the door. 'That's so cute I could puke.'

'Shut up, Mister I-have-mansions-in-every-state,' I grinned, throwing a light punch at his shoulder.

'Uh! Slander!' He ducked away. 'Why would I buy a house in Jersey? Or Kansas? I think maybe we should swing by the hospital, get your brain examined.'

It really was only a short walk around the corner, Natasha and Bucky having engaged in a short but intense campaign of terror against home-owners near my house to encourage one of them to sell up. In order to be able to keep an eye on me after the divorce, they'd told me, not even bothering to sugar coat it.

We walked up the short path, Tony eyeing Natasha's... modified garden gnomes with a sort of horrified interest, and I rang the bell.

'It's open!' Clint hollered from inside, almost certainly already juggling at least two drinks and whatever canapes he managed to sneak without Natasha stabbing him.

I turned to smile at Tony, and led him into the living room.

'Did you perhaps forget to bring something tonight, Clint?' I tilted my head, waggling his gift at him.

He grinned up at me, toasting me with a glass of wine. 'Knew you had my back, buddy. Hey! You found a date! Nice work,' he extended a fist overflowing with bread sticks for a bump as he leered at Tony. 'Looker, too.'

'Steve?' Natasha called from the kitchen. ' _Thank_ you; get yourself in here and drag my husband away from my mise en place already!'

'Uh,' I glared at Clint, trying to convey a threat to turn him over to Natasha and Bobbi if he embarrassed me, but it was probably a lost cause. 'I'll be back in a moment.'

Bucky was picking at a plate of bacon bits, laughing and dodging Natasha's vicious towel flicks with limited success. I ducked over, grabbing Bucky around the waist and one leg and heaved him up and away from the food.

'Nooo!' He howled, thrashing and trying to hit me. 'Steve, it's _bacoooonnnn_...'

'I know,' I hauled him out of the kitchen into the hall and put him down, grabbing his arm when he tried to rush back to the bacon bits. 'About my date...'

Bucky immediately forgot about the bacon, turning a predatory grin towards me and slinging his arm around my shoulders to haul me in. 'Yes, thank you for reminding me. We forgot to get your opinion on ground rules for the interrogation-'

'It's Tony Stark,' I said, cringing away in anticipation of his reaction.

'What?' he laughed. 'No it isn't.'

I dug the envelope with Jen Walter's autograph in it out of my jacket and handed it over. Bucky gave me an amused glance as he pulled the flap up with his teeth, and pulled the paper out. He glanced down at it, then up at me again with shocked eyes. He looked down at the autograph again, then took the three steps over to the living room door to stare at Tony.

'You utter fucker,' he breathed, turning to glare at me. 'How in the history of fucking _anything_ could you manage that?'

I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. 'Uh, can I explain tomorrow? I mean, you'll be cool, won't you?'

Bucky's eyes narrowed, and he put the autograph gently down in order to slap the back of my head. Really hard.

'Natasha is going to make you clean all the grease traps at the restaurant for a _year_ for doing this,' he moved to flick me in the ear, but I managed to duck out of the way.

'Sorry!' I held up my hands. 'It's been a bit of a shock for me too!'

Natasha appeared behind me, announcing her presence with a hand on the back of my neck. It was a gentle touch, but it carried an air of potential violence. 'Why is James riled up at you, Steve?'

'He brought motherfucking _Tony Stark_ to our house, Tash!' Bucky hissed, jerking his head towards the living room.

Natasha slipped up to the doorway, stared into the room for a minute, then said. 'James was wrong, Steve. You'll be cleaning the grease traps for a _decade_. Hello, Mr Stark. Welcome to our house.'

Bucky and I trailed after her, just in time to catch Clint's poleaxed expression as he stared up at Tony. Obviously he hadn't recognised Tony, and was mentally backtracking over whatever appalling things he'd no doubt said.

I stepped around Natasha to Tony's side. 'Tony, this is Natasha and Bucky. Natasha's the one who cooked dinner; Bucky's my best friend.'

'If we've got any luck at all, she won't have done dessert,' Clint put in, having recovered from his shock. 'Woman, I'll never understand how you can make a pierogi I would _marry_ , but your sweets taste like caramelised hate.'

Natasha raised an eyebrow promising violence at a later date, and turned to smile at Tony. 'Can I get you a drink, Mr Stark?'

'Oh, god,' Tony grinned, and it melted all the tension right out of the room. 'Please call me Tony; I get the most terrible flashbacks to the time Bill O'Reilly interviewed me every time I hear "Mr Stark". And water is good, I'll take a water.'

'So that last round of rehab took, then?' Clint asked, and I felt a powerful urge to throttle him.

'So far,' Tony's grin sharpened a little as he turned to Clint. 'How about your last script for doxycycline, how's that going?'

'Well,' Clint laughed. 'How about yours?'

Tony gave him an approving nod. 'Well played, man.'

'I always _knew_ I'd like you,' Clint popped the last of his bread sticks in his mouth. 'Claiming you as my lifebro, just so's you know.'

'All you bitches ante up the presents!' Bobbi yelled, slamming the front door open and coming down the hall. 'There'd better be a... motherfucker, one of you got me a fucking movie star.'

She froze in the doorway, mouth hanging open for a moment, then she flinched. 'Fucking shit, I just swore at Tony Stark!'

'A couple of times,' Tony added. 'Happy fucking birthday. I got you a present.'

He held it out, and after a few seconds, Bobbi doubled over with laughter.

****

Dinner was wonderful, as it always was when Natasha cooked, and after we'd finished the last of the potatoes she brought out a plate of brownies.

Clint reached for one, then his hand paused in mid air. 'Someone else made these, right?'

'Bucky's in charge of brownies,' I said, sneaking mine before Clint could get his own. 'Since we were 12.'

Natasha dished out the brownies, delivering a solid whack to Clint's knuckles when he tried to grab his own. 'No fingers, Barton.'

The brownies were _glorious_ , as usual, and we ate them in respectful silence as befitted a dessert of this calibre. 

'Hey,' Clint said a few minutes later, pointing at the table. 'Bucky made an extra brownie!'

He lunged forward, hand outstretched, but Natasha's hand shot out to knock him back. 'We have to decide how to distribute it fairly.'

'What,' Bucky rubbed at his chest where her fist had struck him. 'Slice it six ways?'

Natasha snorted. 'Not likely. No, a brownie is comfort food. We must determine who is in the greatest need of comfort.'

'You holding a loser-off for the brownie?' Tony blinked, then grinned. 'This should be good. Who's first?'

Clint and Bobbi turned matching grins towards me, and I braced myself.

'Well,' Bobbi flipped her hair over her shoulder. 'Steve's _pretty_ badly off. Owns a _terrible_ motorbike he's always throwing money at...'

'Losing his looks,' Clint called, tossing half a bread roll at me. 'Fading sadly into used-to-be-hot territory...'

' _And_ ,' I said, in my best long-suffering tones. 'I have to spend every day with teenagers.'

Everyone made mocking noises of sympathy, then Clint banged a hand on the table.

' _But_ ,' he shouted, waving a hand in the air. 'He _did_ bag _the_ Tony-fucking-Stark as his date here.'

'True,' Tony grinned, lifting his glass of water to his lips. 'Pretty damning count in the not-loser column.'

'OK, then,' I laughed, pointing at Bobbi. 'Dazzle us with your terrible life, little miss birthday girl.'

Bobbi gave a terrifyingly convincing expression of distress. 'Well... I'm thirty-mrfl, I'm not married-'

'Hey,' Clint shouted. 'I _totally_ tried!'

'I dated Clint for _far_ too many years,' she grinned at Clint's choking protest. 'And my hair has just started doing this bird's nest thing no matter _what_ I do with it.'

'Which brings us to Clint, I believe,' Tony turned in his chair, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

'Loser in lo-o-o-ove,' Bobbi sighed. 'One bad decision after another-'

'True,' Clint sighed theatrically. 'She speaks the truth.'

'And he is _very_ weird,' Bucky put in with a grin. 'But he has _the_ Tony-fucking-Stark as his lifebro,' we all cheered, and Clint spread his hands acknowledging defeat. 'My turn. Uh... I'm in serious danger of becoming nothing more than a house husband with a debilitating addiction to daytime television and I'm banned from the kitchen unless it's for my brownies.'

I laughed, tossing Clint's half roll at Bucky. 'You and daytime TV has been a lost cause since _Dallas_. Plus look at your wife.'

Bucky actually blushed at that, and Natasha cleared her throat.

'My turn?' she picked her wine up, leaning back in her chair before continuing the game in inflectionless tones. 'I'm always swamped at the restaurant because no matter how rude I am the imbecilic hordes just keep turning up; I am engaged in a bitter and drawn-out guerilla war with the man who delivers the produce and Bucky won't let me stab him even a little, and to top it all off, it turns out we can't get pregnant.'

She took a deep breath in the ensuing silence and let it out, sipping her wine and avoiding everyone's eyes. I opened my mouth, caught Bucky's eye and closed it again as he reached out to take her hand in his.

She squeezed his hand so hard her knuckles turned white, then smiled at him. 'Oh well. There is always adoption, is there not?'

There was silence for a moment, and I reached for the plate. 'Well, after that, I think-'

'Wait ,' Tony said, sitting forward. 'Don't I get a go?'

Clint snorted. 'You? You think you've got a shot?'

'I think I deserve a go,' Tony shrugged. 'Right?'

'All right hotshot,' Clint folded his arms. 'Show us what you've got.'

Tony paused, looking a little uncertain for a moment, then he laughed quietly. 'OK, uh... I've spent more time in the gym than most Olympic athletes, I've had people scheduling my days down to five minute blocks since I was twelve years old, I can't take the trash out without US Weekly running an expose about how I've relapsed if there's a single glass bottle in the bin, and my father never once told me he even liked me.'

Clint's jaw dropped, and he twitched forward before glancing at me and sitting back. I studied Tony's profile, wondering what on Earth to say to that, and really the only option was 'Nice try, James Bond. A solid try, but it's no terrible hair issue. Bobbi and her bird's nest win this round, I think.'

I seized the plate and passed it to Bobbi, and Tony burst into helpless laughter. Bobbi crammed the whole brownie in her mouth, cheeks chipmunking out comically, and we all collapsed against each other. I looked up to check on Tony, and he blew me a kiss with a soft smile.

God, I was so very screwed.

And I _loved_ it.

****

'Happy birthday,' I told Bobbi again, brushing a kiss against her cheek as I stepped out the door. 'Love you.'

'Yeah, yeah,' she laughed, leaning in to whisper 'oh my _god_ , Steve! You are telling me _everything_ , I swear to god! Tony fucking _Stark_?'

I grinned at her, and stepped back to let Tony make his goodbyes. He brushed kisses against Natasha and Bobbi's cheeks, punched Clint in the shoulder and ducked laughing out of the way of the return blow, and shook Bucky's hand.

'I enjoyed myself immensely,' he said to them all. 'I just... _thank_ you. Thank you.'

He turned and skipped down the steps, letting his fingers brush tantalisingly along my forearm when he passed me. I looked up into four matching lewd expressions and stuck my tongue out at them before following Tony into the street.

We wandered along the street towards the main road, and Tony nudged me with his elbow. 'What happened to Bucky's arm?'

'We were in Iraq,' I shrugged and shook my head at his frown. 'IED. Thanks to him, we didn't lose any men that day. Bucky saw it and managed to warn everyone, but he wasn't quick enough at getting down himself. He got his discharge, and I finished my tour and came home. Couldn't face a re-up after that, and by that time we'd caught Saddam, so...'

'Thank you for your service,' Tony said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. He held on for a heartbeat, then leaned out into the road to flag a cab down. 

I shoved my hands in my pockets. Crazy romcom awesomeness was over. I stifled a sigh.

The cab stopped, and Tony turned to me. 'You coming, Steve?'

I could feel the grin spreading over my face. 'Depends,' I stepped a little closer. 'Where are we going?'

Tony grinned back at me. 'There's something I've wanted to do for _years_. And I'd really like you to join me.'

Well, how could I resist?

****

'This is... not what I was expecting,' I tilted my head, squinting up at the Prospect Park Zoo fence. 'Do I want to know what we're doing here?'

Tony raised his eyebrows at me and ran towards the fence, jumping to grab at the railing and hauling himself up and over.

'Tony!' I jumped forward far too late to do anything about him except stare dumbly at his grin through the bars.

'Come on, Steve,' he twitched an eyebrow at me. 'Not gonna leave me here on my own, are you?'

Well, of _course_ I wasn't. I took a few steps back and launched myself at the fence, twisting over the bars and landing in front of Tony with a gymnastic salute and a grin.

'Uh...' Tony looked a little dazed for a moment, then blinked furiously, turning away. He called over his shoulder 'Petting zoo won't wait, Rogers!'

I stared after him, shamelessly studying the tense and flex of his ass until he twirled to grin at me and beckon.

'Right,' I jogged after him, feeling the heat in my cheeks and completely failing to care. Tony led the way to a field full of what looked like sleeping cows and horses. 'Are you sure this is a good idea?'

'It's one of mine,' Tony tossed out. 'Of _course_ it's good. Gimme a boost; I wanna go pat a cow!'

He leaned against the fence, arching back and smiling. I couldn't help stepping up to press him against the wood, slipping a knee between his and leaning into him. 'So...'

Tony's lips twitched, and he seized my shirt to drag me in.

He tasted just as good as last time, and the slight scrape of his stubble against my cheek went straight to my dick. I groaned, leaning hard against him and sliding my hands down his sides.

God, I was so far gone over him. Tony tipped his head back and I trailed my lips down his throat, nosing his collar aside and lapping at the sheen of sweat leading to his clavicle. Tony made the most beautiful noises as I sucked at his skin, rutting against me and I was about ten seconds away from just dropping to my knees right there in front of the horses.

'Wait, wait, wait,' Tony pushed at my shoulders, and I eased back reluctantly. 'I know what we need to do!'

He wriggled out from between me and the fence (and I won't lie; I enjoyed that), and set off like a greyhound along the path. I let my head thunk against the fence twice, then chased after him.

I caught up to him as he was tugging at the door to the red panda enclosure.

'What are you doing?' I slid my arms around his waist, nibbling at the back of his neck and grinning when he went slack against me.

'I wanted to..' he gasped, so I scraped my teeth over the same spot. 'God, I just... I've never had a pet. Dad wouldn't... and I just don't have the time... uh! Dammit, Steve, again!'

I obliged, flicking my tongue against the slight marks from my teeth.

'And I just...' Tony sighed and twisted in my arms to kiss me before leaning back against the wire and sigh. 'I always wanted to see what that sort of unconditional affection was like.'

I made a noise in the back of my throat and pressed forward again, dropping closed-mouthed kisses on his lips until he leaned forward. It was a crying shame that Tony had had so many disappointments in his life.

I wanted to give him everything he'd ever missed out on. I wanted to make sure that Tony had everything he wanted. I _wanted_.

'Come on, Steve,' he groaned, pulling away to yank at the padlock. 'Let's get these pandas out already!'

'Tony, if you let the pandas out, they'll get all over the place,' I nipped at his earlobe. 'They'll wind up in the _subway_. You don't want to be responsible for a bunch of flattened pandas, do you?'

'I suppose not,' Tony sighed, relaxing against me. 'I bet they're all asleep now, anyway.'

'How about-'

'Hey!' someone shouted, and there was the blinding beam of a flash light washing over us. 'The hell you think you're doing?!'

'Cheese it!' Tony shrieked, shoving me away and taking off at a dead run, laughter bubbling past the panic in his voice. 'It's the fuzz!'

I managed to stay on my feet in spite of the push, and threw myself after Tony before the night watchman could get a hold of me.

We raced down the winding path, pursued by the guard's angry shouts. I seized Tony by the hips and heaved him up towards the wall as soon as we got there, and took a running leap after him. I could hear the guard's heavy footsteps and breathing, then a few muttered curses before he wandered off again.

Tony's eyes were huge in the sodium-glow of the street lights, sparkling with barely-contained mirth as he grabbed my hand and tugged me along one of the park paths.

'You're a hazard,' I muttered, tangling my fingers with his. 'Honestly; breaking into a _zoo_?'

'Well,' Tony pulled my hand up to run his teeth along one of my fingers. 'It _is_ just around the corner from my hotel.'

'Oh,' I swallowed, and had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself. 'Right, Park Slope's right there, isn't it?'

Tony hummed his agreement and led the way.

****

He pulled me to the shadow of one of the willows when we reached Alkali Lakes.

'Can you give me five minutes before you come in?' he ran a hand down my chest, groaning as he pulled back and straightened his clothes. 'Just, come straight up in five minutes?'

I nodded, putting my hands behind me and leaning back against the tree to keep from reaching after him. 'Five minutes.'

He grinned, and bounded up the steps, calling out a cheery greeting to someone called 'Logan' and getting a sort of animal growl in response.

I tipped my head back to stare at the leaves, counting under my breath in Arabic; which helped kill a few minutes since I could _not_ remember what came after _sab'at ashar_. I groaned and gave up, checking my watch to find that the five minutes was over.

Grinning, I raced into the foyer, nodding at the cranky desk guy and stabbing at the call button for the elevator. The desk guy muttered something crass-sounding, flipping a page of his newspaper. I laughed under my breath and rode the car up with a jaw-cracking grin on my face.

I almost skipped on my way to Tony's door, almost unable to believe that I was about to get to sleep with Tony Stark. I rapped on the door, running a hand through my hair for a last minute presentation adjustment.

The door opened, and I leaned forward for a kiss, but Tony's hand slammed into my chest.

'You have to go,' he hissed, looking half panicked. 'I'm so sorry, Steve, but you need to leave-'

'Who is it, Tony?' a woman's voice called from inside the suite, and whoever she was pulled the door open all the way. 'Oh, hello? Aren't you that-'

'Miss Danvers,' I hastily shoved a smile on my face. 'I'm sorry to bother you this late, my editor had a follow up question for T- uh, Mr Stark, and I just thought I'd come by to see whether he was up.'

She settled a hand on Tony's waist, and I couldn't help staring at the way she leaned into him. They looked so natural together.

'Better Homes and Gardens wanted to ask a follow-up?' she smiled, taking the sting out of the words. 'Well, kudos on your dedication to your job. Shall I leave you two alone, or did you have a question for me too?'

I put my hand behind my back to clench my fist hard. 'No, that's fine,' I smiled at them, my brightest, most professional, Social Workers' Visit smile. 'Thank you for your time, Mr Stark. If there's anything else, I'm sure my editor will get in contact.'

I turned and walked back to the elevator, deliberately not thinking about Tony trying to use me to cheat on his girlfriend.

 _Definitely_ not thinking about the fondness that was obvious between them.

God, how could I have been so _stupid_?

Logan on the desk glanced up when I stormed past, pulling a face which could have been a sympathetic grimace or a disapproving scowl. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I laughed.

'Lovely place you have here,' I wrenched the door open. 'Very romantic.'

I closed the door carefully behind myself and refused to cry. I'd been an _idiot_ , and Tony had been an ass, but it was no big deal.

Really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting Steve loves is viewable here: http://www.artinthepicture.com/paintings/Paul_Klee/Captive/  
> Klee is one of my favourite painters of all time, so this is just shameless self-indulgence ^_^  
> Doxycycline is one of the two main antibiotics prescribed for chlamydia; the fact that they both know this speaks volumes, huh?  
> I wanted to have Tony try and play with monkeys, but apparently the Prospect Park zoo doesn't have monkeys. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF ZOO DOESN'T HAVE MONKEYS, I ASK YOU.  
>  _Sab'at'ashar_ is Arabic for 17 (at least, according to Google, let me know if I've got it wrong and I'll fix it)
> 
> I smoshed the events of the movie a little, as I couldn't see how to do the restaurant scene in any believable way, and Tony's just so handsy that I can't see him walking away from Steve after the party.
> 
> I think it will probably be 4 chapters, having gone over the movie again and figured out a whole bunch of plot over chat with Mirianna.
> 
> BUT, I am doing NaNoWriMo, so I cannot guarantee any time being available to do fannish writing (DOUBLE BUT: I am SUPER GREAT at procrastination, so end story is I have no idea whether or not I'll be doing updating this month)


	3. Dammit, I was TITLING the chapters? Urgh

Things went back to normal after my Night of Humiliation. I spent a week fielding calls and visits from Bucky which started out teasing and rude, but quickly became outright concerned.

I didn’t tell him about what had happened; I just couldn’t face talking about it, even with him.  
It had been weird and fantastic, but real life had reasserted itself.

****

Fall shaded almost imperceptibly into Winter, and I came into SHIELD one morning a few weeks before Christmas to find that Wade had finally worn Peter down.

‘Shirts back on, please,’ I said from behind my hands and tightly closed eyes. ‘We’ll be getting the first wave in soon and I’d like them to remain untraumatised for as long as possible.’

‘Sorry Boss,’ Wade called, and there was a long, distressing kissing sound, then rustling clothing. When I opened my eyes, they were standing rather close to each other, but all the clothing was on the right parts of their bodies.

‘Thank you,’ I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. ‘And congratulations.’

Peter flushed puce and slunk off towards the equipment cupboards. Wade high-fived me.

At least _someone's_ love life was working out.

****

I was trying to decide between Hot Pockets and Pizza Rolls for lunch (Clint had done the shopping) when the doorbell rang. It rang a further five times in the thirty seconds it took me to walk down the hall and wrench the door open, and to my shock I found Tony with his finger still pressing the button down.

'Uh,' he gave me a bright smile and belatedly let go of the doorbell, dusting his hands off on his pants and shooting glances up and down the street. 'I... didn't know where else to go.'

On closer examination, I could see Tony was trembling, his smile getting brittle by degrees. I stepped back and pushed the door fully open.

He gave me a small smile and brushed past me, heading for the lounge room. I closed the door, pressed my forehead against the wood for ten breaths, and joined him.

He was hovering by the couch, never standing still for more than a heartbeat. I felt a little dizzy watching him.

'Coffee?' I asked, partly out of social obligation, but mostly so I had an excuse to leave the room and have silent hysterics for a few minutes.

'Please,' Tony said over his shoulder. I ran for the kitchen.

Sequestered in the kitchen with Clint's temperamental coffee maker and a complete lack of milk or sugar to offer ( _thank_ you again, Clint's shopping talent), I pressed my forehead against the fridge and practised the breathing exercises Bucky's hippie high school girlfriend had taught us.

Five minutes later, the coffee was done, and the breathing exercises had at least calmed me enough to act like a sane person for the upcoming conversation. I did a final check, but there wasn't even a diner pack of creamer. I just had to hope Tony liked it black.

He took the mug with both hands and promptly shotgunned about half of it. I felt my mouth drop open, and hurriedly brought my own mug up to hide my face.

Tony did one more circuit of the room, then dropped onto the couch, slumping forward like his strings had been cut. I waited, uncomfortable with the idea of asking him what was wrong; it felt too much like forcing a confidence somehow.

'I don't suppose you subscribe to the _Daily Bugle's_ weekly magazine,' he said at length, staring into whatever remained of his coffee. I shook my head, and Tony sighed. 'They ran an article this week. Today. I don't suppose you knew it's the tenth anniversary of my parents' death, did you?'

'I didn't, no,' I went over to sit beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry.'

He glanced up, shooting me a small smile; a ghost of the brash, beautiful one he'd given me months ago. 'Thank you. I...' Tony's eyes started watering, and he turned his face away with a harsh sob. 'I don't know who they talked to, but someone told them some family secrets. I... my agent called me at five this morning, told me to go somewhere the press couldn't find me, and the only place I could think of was here.'

He sobbed again, and I couldn't help putting my arm around his shoulders and rubbing circles on his back. 'It's OK, Tony,' I murmured into his hair. 'You can stay as long as you need to; I'll take the couch and put fresh sheets on my bed. It'll be fine.'

Tony sagged against me, turning to bury his face in my shoulder. 'I'm sorry,' he said indistinctly. 'I shouldn't be this upset. It was just a shock seeing the past dredged up... I _wish_ I knew who that bitch talked to.'

We sat there for over an hour, coffees forgotten and unappealing by our feet. Eventually, Tony sighed and straightened up, shooting me a self-concious smile.

'I'm sorry,' he ran his hands through his hair a few times. 'I'm normally a lot more controlled. And I wouldn't _dream_ of taking your bed, Steve. The couch is fine for me.'

I folded my hands in my lap so I wouldn't do anything idiotic like reach for him, and smiled back. 'You don't have to if you don't want to,' I said, twisting my fingers together tightly. 'But if you want to tell someone about the article, you can tell me.'

Tony laughed, and it took ten years off his face. 'It wasn't even anything truly salacious is the real kicker,' he picked his cold coffee up and pulled a face at it before putting it down again. 'Just private. Little details I thought were mine and mine alone, though it's no great surprise I blabbed to some shiny pretty thing at a party,' the look he gave me that time was wry and full of regret. 'My golden years.'

'But why would whoever it was wait so long before going to the press?' I picked up the discarded coffee mugs and got up to put them on the mantelpiece. 'It seems like an odd thing to do.'

Tony frowned, twitching slightly in surprise. 'Yeah. You're right, Steve. Odd...'

I watched him thinking, once again fallen under the spell of his presence. He really did have something that made you want to watch him. Star Quality, as they say. Tony became foreground, regardless of where he was, and I was more than half in love with him before I'd even met him.

'It must have been someone I knew,' he muttered. 'They had more details than I can see me giving a stranger, no matter _how_ high I was. God, that's just made me feel worse! Someone I thought was a friend selling me to a trashy magazine!'

I couldn't help reaching out for him then, just a hand on his shoulder as I sat down again. 'It's all stuff from the past, though, right? So not anyone you're friends with _now_.'

Tony huffed a laugh at that and relaxed into the cushions. He watched me for a moment, and I got the sense of being judged. Eventually, he said 'I never really got along with Howard. Oh, I didn't hate him. We were just... too similar for comfort, I suppose. We had a lot of rows, especially near the end.'

Tony's story came out in dribs and drabs, interspersed with what was probably too much coffee. His father never got treatment for alcohol abuse; never even admitted he might have had a problem. Tony had thrown himself into the party circuit with abandon, and by the time he was seventeen had been brought home by the cops more than thirty times, each and every time splashed in glossy colour across fifteen trashy magazines alongside vitriolic and smugly self-satisfied editorialising. I though about me and Bucky at that age when Tony talked about the constant paparazzi assault, and felt a powerless flash of fury. Hell, thinking about anything like this happening to any of the kids who came to SHIELD made my shoulders seize up with an urge to punch someone.

Tony broke off when the front door slammed open, blinking rabbit-eyes for about three seconds before his glossy public-face crystallised. It was a little creepy to see, and I had to breathe deeply to clear my system of the anger at his needing to develop the mask.

'Yo, Stevalicious!' Clint hollared from the hall, kicking the door closed and clomping towards us. 'Your boyfriend's on the front pages again! Wanna pin them up and throw knives at his face? I... oh, uh...'

Tony gave him a finger wave. Clint, no stranger to hideous social faux-pas, recovered after a moment and kicked his shoes off at us.

'Knew you couldn't leave a prime piece of meat like Steve alone for long,' Clint shuffled something papery behind himself and I heard the sound of papers hitting the hall wall and sliding to the ground. I buried my face in my hands. 'You left it longer than I woulda, though.'

I felt Tony shift, and kept my face hidden to try and distance myself from Clint and his complete lack of social graces.

'I see you're still flying solo,' Tony replied, a grin in his voice. 'Let me show you my complete lack of surprise. Can you see it clearly? Come closer, it can be hard to get all the nuances from a distance.'

'Did I tell you how much I like you last time?' Clint laughed, and I peeked through my fingers. Clint saw and winked at me. 'Right, well I suddenly remembered an urgent round of sock-buying I need to do. Desperately important, and bound to take at least three hours. Have fun, kids!'

He disappeared, followed by the front door slamming again, and Tony's head hit my shoulder. I could feel him shaking with suppressed giggles, so I shifted a little to make myself comfortable.

Thirty seconds after that, the door crashed open again, to the tunes of 'forgot my shoes, bitches! Don't spunk-up the couch! Condoms and junk!'

We both of us lost it when the door slammed again.

****

'I like your friends,' Tony said when he'd calmed down, sagging back against the arm of my couch and looking a little grey. 'They're good people.'

'Not sure Clint counts as “people”,' I said, just to see him laugh again. 'You hungry?'

He half shook his head, then frowned. 'I thought I was too upset for food, but actually, I could murder a pizza.'

I glanced towards the kitchen. 'We have pizza rolls and hot pockets, or I could call Vito, if you prefer?'

'Ooh!' Tony jumped up and headed for the freezer. 'Pizza rolls? I haven't had them in _forever_.'

'Pizza rolls it is, then' I turned the oven on and reached around Tony to get the box. He went very still for a moment, then swivelled on the spot to face me. It was a bit of a shock how close we were, and I froze, swallowing hard.

Tony's eyes were dark and huge, impossible to look away from. My mouth dropped open, and I could feel myself leaning forward without deciding to. I felt his hands sliding onto my hips, and there was no way I could've stopped myself from closing the distance.

Tony gasped into the kiss, hands slipping down to pull my hips against his. I groaned and walked him backwards until he was pressed against the fridge, pulling at his shirt and sliding my hands under it to feel the smooth skin on Tony's back.

We stayed there for a long time, just kissing, until my stomach made a loud sound of protest. Tony laughed into my mouth and pulled back, dotting kisses along my jaw, then dragging his teeth over my earlobe.

'Oven should be warmed up by now,' he murmured, hands moving around to push me gently away. 'You're not going to be a pizza roll tease, are you?'

I huffed a laugh, and pulled Tony away from the fridge to get the pizza rolls out. I turned the whole box out onto a tray and twisted the timer. When I turned back, Tony was leaning against the wall, lips wet and puffy and open, shirt tails pulled out and crumpled, eyes heavy-lidded and full of heat. I took the three steps across the room so quickly I hardly registered moving, and slid my fingers into his hair.

'How long do they take to cook?' Tony said, breathing hard and looking a little unsure. I let my hands move down to cup his shoulders, rubbing soothing strokes against his tense muscles.

'Twenty minutes,' I smiled at him. 'Or thereabouts.'

His expression flickered, like he was debating with himself, then Tony grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me forward to whisper against my lips 'Guess we've got some time to kill, then.'

I grinned, and then we didn't talk for a while.

****

The oven timer interrupted us when I had Tony's shirt open, tracing over some old scar tissue over his breastbone with my tongue. I stepped back, smirking at Tony's offended expression.

'Hey,' I held my hands up as I backed towards the oven. 'I'm a growing boy.'

Tony's eyes flickered towards my crotch, and I seriously considered leaving the pizza rolls to burn. He must've seen the indecision on my face, because Tony shrugged his shirt fully off and strode back into the lounge room, calling over his shoulder 'You promised me delicious carb-y goodness, Steve. The sex can wait.'

I watched as he threw himself onto the couch and posed like this was a photo shoot. Then I got the plates out.

****

By unspoken agreement, we bolted the food down as quickly as temperature would allow, abandoning the plates on the living room floor when Tony bolted for the stairs.

I caught him halfway up the flight, pinned him against the wall, and sucked a small but vivid mark into the skin under his collarbone.

'Bedroom,' he groaned, thumping a fist into my shoulder blade and arching closer. 'Fucking lube and a flat surface, I don't care where.'

'Well, we're not using Clint's room,' I thumbed his fly open and slipped my hand inside. 'I don't think I've seen his sheets come out of his room in the two years he's lived here.'

'Eew,' Tony kicked at my ankle. 'Take me to bed or lose me forever, Steve. And it'd better be a clean bed.'

'As you wish,' I stepped back just far enough to bend over and hoisted Tony in a fireman's lift, ignoring his shouted protests and jabbing fingers. I leapt up the remaining steps, kicked my bedroom door in and hurled him onto the mattress.

****

I heard Clint come home a few hours later, the clattering crashes of his attempts to navigate the house while appallingly drunk an infrequent but recognisable symphony.

There was a particularly catastrophic crash, and a few seconds later Clint's voice floated up 'I'm just gonna sleep down here. If I choke on my own puke, Tony gets my throwing knives.'

Tony thrust a fist in the air. 'Score!'

Laughing, I rolled over to press him into the pillows with a kiss. He made a pleased sound, hands coming up to cup my shoulders, then stroking down to my waist. We kissed for a while, unhurried and lazy, the afterglow leaving us more buzzed than exhausted.

After a while, I pulled away and flopped onto my back. The ceiling was nice this time of night; cracks I'd always liked seeming to twist into familiar shapes like clouds on a summer's day.

'Tell me what you're thinking,' he dug his knee into my thigh.

I shrugged, trapping his hand against my chest and lacing my fingers with his. 'I was thinking how I'd love to see you in spandex onscreen.'

'What?' Tony loomed over me with a confused grin. 'You think I should start doing Victoria's Secret ads?'

'No,' I ran a finger down his sternum. 'I think you'd make a fantastic Batman, though. And if you _did_ want to model women's underwear I'd be an enraptured audience.'

'Batman?' he blinked at me, a confused smile pulling at his lips. 'I can't play a superhero, that's for guys like Danny or Simon Williams. No one would come to see me in spandex.'

' _I_ would,' I cupped Tony's cheek and ducked up for a kiss. 'And you'd play a _mesmerising_ antihero.'

He laughed against my lips, and we didn't do much talking for a while.

****

We didn't actually sleep that much, and I don't mean we were too busy having sex. We _talked_ for hours, sharing stories from our childhoods and trading favourites.

Tony's favourite movie was _Casablanca_ according to every interview he'd ever done, but he whispered that his _actual_ favourite was _Star Trek V_.

'It's so gloriously, unashamedly camp and terrible,' he elbowed me when I snorted. 'It's just so _fun_.'

'You're just a giant nerd, you mean,' I grinned at him and caught the playful slap he'd aimed at my chest, pinning his hand over my sternum. 'You're _in_ all my favourite films.'

He gave me a wide, unguarded smile at that, and we lay there watching the light start to bleed through the curtains. At about 7, Tony rolled to his feet, neatly dodging my attempts at grabbing him.

'Coffeeeee,' he groaned, doing an exaggerated zombie-shuffle out of the room after pilfering a pair of boxers from my tallboy. I let myself bask in the knowledge that Tony Stark was wearing my underwear for a moment, then grabbed my own pair and followed him downstairs.

Clint was drooling into the couch cushions, wearing a rainbow wig and hot pants for mysterious Clint-reasons. Long experience had taught me not to try and wake him up, but also that noise wasn't going to be an issue. I padded past the plates that were still on the floor and into the kitchen.

Tony was glaring at the coffee maker and shaking his hand, so I kissed the back of his neck and pulled him away from it before it could zap him again. 'You wanna go get the paper while I get the coffee going?'

Tony gave me an exasperated look. 'I'm not even surprised you still get a physical paper delivered, Rogers. Just disappointed.'

I gave him my best grin, swatted his arse, and fetched the coffee can while he wandered off towards the front door. I heard the lock click open, then the most unholy racket, followed by the door slamming hard enough to rattle the windows. I ran into the hall to find Tony flattened against the back of the door, chest heaving. The noise outside resolved itself into shouts of Tony's name and the click-flash of cameras going off.

Our eyes met, and before I could ask Tony what was going on, his expression shuttered. A sort of blank anger slid into place, and he shoved past me and up the stairs. I heard my bedroom door slam shut, frozen in shock until Clint stumbled into me on his way to the bathroom.

'What's going on?' Clint yawned, scratching under the wig but not removing it. 'Someone at the door?'

Before I could stop him, he'd thrown the door open, and wow. The street was _crammed_ with paparazzi, a thousand cameras flashing as Clint stood there in his ridiculous get-up. Clint stood in the open doorway for about a minute, then he carefully shut the door and turned to face me.

'So I may have mentioned something about Tony being here after my eighth bodyshot last night,' he licked his lips and gave me an apologetic smile. 'Oops?'

****

Tony ignored my pleas for him to come out; ignored Clint's attempts to explain and my requests for clothing.

At eight-fifteen, the doorbell rang.

'Clint, could you-' I gestured at my undressed state, and he clapped a hand on my shoulder.

'Got it, Steve,' he disappeared down the stairs.

'Tony,' I tried again. 'Please, I had no idea they were out there-'

My bedroom door opened, and a still-enraged Tony brushed past me without a word.

He took the stairs three at a time back down. I trailed after him into the lounge room to find Clint handing a coffee to a man in a suit I vaguely recognised. Clint was grinning delightedly.

'Coulson,' Tony said in greeting, a note of anger clearly audible in his tone though his face was blank.

Coulson gave Clint a warm smile, took a mouthful of the coffee and handed it back. 'I'll call you?'

Clint's grin widened even further. 'I'll be waiting, Phil.'

Coulson handed Tony a pair of sunglasses, and they vanished into the crowd outside.

Clint stared at the doorway, a dreamy look on his face while I collapsed onto the couch and dropped my head into my hands.

****

The phone number Tony had given me way back when had been disconnected, so I couldn't even apologise or explain.

The paparazzi camped outside my house for a week, and Clint's fashion victory got splashed across a dozen magazine covers and its own Saturday Night Live skit. Eventually, though, they stopped coming around and life went back to normal. Again.

A week after the most persistent photographer gave up, Coulson picked Clint up for a date.

'I'm sorry,' he told me before I could ask about Tony. 'He's taken off for the Bahamas. Pepper was furious he left his phones behind, so even if I was allowed to give you his number, it wouldn't do you any good.'

I gave him the most convincing smile I could muster up. 'Don't take Clint's Milk Duds, whatever you do. And be on your guard for flailing if you're seeing anything with archery in it.'

Coulson gave me a steady look. 'So noted. Have a nice evening, Steve.'

****

Coulson - _Phil_ quickly became a fixture, and Clint was almost a new person with him. He was happier than I'd seen him in a long time.

Between Bucky and Natasha, Wade and Peter and Clint and Phil, I was starting to feel crushed by everyone else's romantic successes.

Bobbi and I spent I don't know how many nights on her couch with pints of Ben N Jerry's, watching only movies Tony wasn't in until it stopped hurting so much.

Life went on, and time might not _heal_ all wounds but it at least lets them scab over. By the end of the Summer, I was as close to normal as you could reasonably expect after having my deepest fantasy come true and promptly shattered.

****

I was walking home from SHIELD one night in August, when Wade loomed out at me from beside a dumpster and grabbed me by the elbow.

'That's a great way to make sure your dentist has something to do, Wade,' I said as patiently as I could manage. Wade just grinned and started tugging me off towards Sternberg Park. Because it was _much_ easier than the alternative, and because I didn't have anything better to be doing, I let him.

The park seemed to be cordoned off for a movie shoot; security guards and spotlights all over the place. Wade dragged me right up to the biggest security guard.

'Hi!' he gave the guard a bright little wave. 'My friend here's friends with Tony Stark. Can he go through to see him?'

The guard's expression stayed stony. Mortified, I tried to pull away, but Wade is astonishingly strong and I couldn't move him.

'Wade,' I muttered out of one side of my mouth. 'What do you think-?'

And then it got worse. Tony wandered out of a trailer, dressed in black rubber with a cape, glanced over and saw me. For a moment, I tried to hide behind Wade, but Tony was heading over and Wade was more uncooperative than the worst of the teenagers at the youth centre.

'Hey,' Tony patted the guard on the back. 'It's OK, I know him. You come to see how we do it, Steve?'

'Uh,' I said, because clearly I do my best work under stress. 'Yes?'

Wade melted away, leaving a Cheshire Cat impression of a grin in the air, and Tony pulled me onto the set with a slightly strained smile. I looked around, at everything except for Tony. I could feel my face flaming, and I groped for something to say.

'So...' I squinted at another guy dressed like Tony (his stunt double?) standing on top of a mock-up of a skyscraper. 'You're making a superhero film?'

Tony laughed and elbowed me. 'I'm Batman,' he rasped, then continued in normal tones 'Like you told me I could be.'

I turned to stare at him, my mouth dropping open. 'I...? You're actually doing it?'

'Yeah,' Tony shifted, and the costume actually looked _really_ uncomfortable. Stupidly cool, but really awkward to wear. 'Look, I wanted to-'

A lady with a buzz cut and a headpiece strode over and glared at Tony. 'You planning on working tonight, or should we all break for cocktails, Stark?'

'Maria!' Tony grinned at her. 'I was _just_ extolling your many virtues to Steve here. Can you get him wired for sound so he can watch the scene? Thank you, darling! Steve,' he started walking backwards in the direction Maria had come from. 'I _do_ want to speak to you. Don't disappear on me, OK?'

A man dressed as Superman joined him, and I looked down into Maria's irritated gaze. 'Um...'

'Come on,' she snapped, whirling around to follow Tony and Superman. 'It'll take them half an hour to get their act together anyway.'

I followed her over to a crowd of people grouped around several cameras, and wow! I was less than ten yards away from Nick Fury! I hardly paid attention as Maria handed me over to someone to get hooked up to an earpiece, too committed to stopping myself from jumping over the cameraman to try for Fury's autograph.

' _You know I won't give up_ ,' someone said in my earpiece, and when I turned back to Tony and Superman I was surprised to recognise Namor Rex in the blue tights. He usually stuck to Shakespeare and avaunt garde European films.

Namor stepped closer to Tony as I watched, and purred ' _Who was that man you dragged onto the set?_ '

' _Hmm?_ ' Tony glanced over at me, then laughed. ' _Oh, no one. Just a fan I thought deserved a thrill. You worked out that issue you had with the fight sequence yet?_ '

I could hardly hear anything over the rush of blood in my ears. Tony had no interest in seeing me again; of course he'd just been being polite.

Numbly, I pulled the earpiece off and handed it to the technician, then slipped back through the crowd and past the security guard.

I stood in the cool night air for a moment, staring up at the sky, then I shook myself and went home.


	4. Declarations in the Rain Just Make You Emotional and Soggy and Then You Have To Go Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, upping the rating to E because apparently I Just Cannot Help It.

I was over Tony Stark, I told myself the next morning; he had no more influence on me than any other gorgeous movie star a million miles removed from real life. I was going to stick to my routine until I got it through my thick head that life was back to normal. Wake up, workout, shower, breakfast. Brush teeth, newspaper, pound on Clint’s door to make sure he gets to work. I was going to have an achingly, aggressively normal day.

Exactly what was needed to ram home the fact that I was still, again and forever just an ordinary guy. Never to be one of the special people; at best a footnote explaining one weekend’s scandal in one of Tony’s many unauthorised biographies.

Clint gave me a crooked smile and a solid punch to the shoulder on his way into the bathroom, and didn’t say anything about the circles I’d seen under my own eyes as I shaved. I called a farewell to him, dragged a sweater on and jogged down the stairs and towards SHIELD.

Peter and Wade were less subtle than Clint; the whole morning dragged with one or the other of them hovering outside my office with soulful, tragic stares. It got so obvious the few kids on suspensions who hung around here rather than the streets started wandering past to peer in at me.

By eleven I was about ready to tear my hair out. Or organise a full repaint of the facilities, a bake sale, or a scavenger hunt where the prizes were parts of Wade’s dismembered body. I took a deep breath and rested my forehead on a pile of dry cleaning forms.

‘Uh, hi Steve.’

I jerked upright to see Tony standing in my office door, a brown paper-wrapped package in his hand. He gave me a shy smile and stepped into the cluttered space, leaned the package against a spare bit of wall and gave me a three-finger wave.

I stared at him, stomach churning and all the thoughts I’d known I wasn’t really dealing with starting up their mardis gras parade through my head again.

Tony’s fingers twitched, then he shoved them in his pockets and his smile shifted to the more familiar meeting-fans charming one.

‘I’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while, but I was such a colossal asshat last time we spoke that I couldn’t quite make myself bring it to you,’ he twitched an elbow at the package, as though there was something else he might have meant. ‘It’s just been… waiting in my hotel, which is idiotic. I bought it for you, I should at least have the balls to _give_ it to you, right?’

I stared at the brown paper, too full of contradictory thoughts and feelings to choose the right thing to say.

'I know it's cowardly to stay in the closet,’ Tony said when the silence had stretched too far. ‘I've never felt strongly enough about anyone to feel up to the shitstorm that would follow, but I think that with you I could weather whatever Jameson throws at me. Us.'

I could feel my heartbeat speed up; this was like something from a Golden Age romance, if they’d been more openly queer. It wasn’t like real life, though. None of this was, that was the problem.

‘But yesterday,’ I said, making myself look up to meet Tony’s eyes. ‘I, uh, I had headphones. I heard you tell Namor I was no one, just a fan you were giving a thrill-’

Tony gave me a disbelieving stare. ‘You think I’m going to tell my personal business to _the_ most indiscreet gossip in the industry? Perez Hilton’s got nothing on Namor for bitchy scorn, Steve!’

‘Uh, sorry to interrupt-’ Peter looked like he was trying to get the minimum possible amount of himself through my door. ‘Steve, you’re gonna need to sort this out before Luke puts his fist actually _through_ Wade.’

Cowardly though it might be, I grabbed at the chance to run away, leaving Peter making the sort of awkward small talk only teenage boys are ever truly capable of. I think I caught something about Peter’s sexual awakening being thanks to Tony’s workout spread and doubled my speed away from _that_ particular disaster.

Rescuing Wade from Luke wasn’t too hard; Luke’s a good kid with a solid sense of fair play, and once he’d calmed down he went back to the pickup game Wade had accidentally scattered. I gave Wade The Lecture for the ninety-fifth time and sent him out for extra cleaning supplies from the third-nearest hardware store.

I glanced at Luke and his crew, tempted to stay out here and pretend like I needed to referee, but that was a bridge too far. I sighed and went back to my office, where Peter was now about the same colour as the heart on those “I Heart NY” t-shirts, babbling in ever-diminishing sentence fragments at Tony. It was the sort of thing Tony would usually be watching with a grin like it was performance art, but he was sort of hunched in on himself and chewing a thumbnail, not even really hearing the garbage pouring out of Peter’s face. He turned that laser gaze on me when I stepped back into my office, shoulders straightening, two-thousand megawatts of attention centred on me.

I shuffled between the two of them to my desk and Peter fled without even saying goodbye, doubtless to hide in a closet to bang his head against the wall.

I took a deep breath. ‘I’m not usually a fickle man, in and out of love at the drop of a hat but. Um, sorry I think I have to say no to seeing you again.’

‘Oh, oh yes,’ Tony swallowed visibly, blinked and laughed uncomfortably. It was _awful_ , watching that face raw and open and knowing it was _my fault_ , but I had to do it. ‘Yeah, of course. It was great to see you again, Steve’

‘It’s just…’ I grasped for the right way to explain, the right words to tell him that how no matter how much I wanted it, it just wasn’t ever going to work. I had to protect myself. ‘You’re you; everyone knows your name. I’m nobody, I don’t _matter_ but I don’t think I could handle it when you move on to the next conquest. I’m just not constitutionally suited to being the starter boyfriend. I’m sorry, I can’t.’

Tony’s shoulders dropped and he sighed, defeated and _horrible_ to see. Worse still to know I was the _cause_.

‘Right, yeah, no you’re right, but...the fame thing isn’t real, y’know?’ He locked gazes with me, unblinking and mesmerising and _god_ how I wanted to give in. ‘It’s just showmanship, just whizbang bullshit that’ll dissipate when the next darling comes along. I might be Tony Stark: Biggest Hollywood Star, but I’m also just a guy standing in front of another guy, asking for a chance, Steve. Asking for a genuinely great guy to consider trying to love a flaming hot mess.’

It was everything I’d ever fantasised about, everything the movies kept telling us was possible.

It was impossible, a trick that would wind up with my heart shattered and Tony married to some gorgeous young starlet in a year or two. I felt myself hunch down, the pull of what he was offering fighting with my pragmatism. We were from different worlds, it _wouldn’t work_.

I could hear Tony’s breathing; a little harsh with emotion. After a long moment, he huffed a bitter laugh, whispered ‘right, yes, I understand,’ and he walked out.

I sank to the floor, leaning against the cheap pressboard of my desk and hooked my arms over my knees.

It was for the best.

****

It was a Wednesday, hot weather and longer days meaning the smaller weekday crowds waited later in the evening before shuffling into Natasha’s restaurant for food, so I put out a call to get everyone together. 

I’d opened the present carefully after the half hour of self-indulgent moping on the floor I’d allowed myself and had to spend another five minutes with my fist crammed in my mouth. The last thing I needed was any of the SHIELD kids coming in and finding me crying over I don’t know how many thousands of dollars of art.

I knew I’d done the right thing, but sometimes when you’re feeling raw and in an emotional tailspin, it’s nice to get confirmation from your friends.

‘So…’ I gave my best attempt at an “it’s all great” smile around the restaurant. ‘It’s properly over, we can get back to normal again.’

Bobbi pulled a face, but she nodded and gave me a thumbs-up when I looked at her. Natasha drummed her nails on her wine glass and exchanged a long glance with Bucky, then both of them gave me firm nods.

‘Right choice, Stevie,’ Bucky said, tangling his fingers around his wife’s. ‘Better off without that drama queen messing up your days.’

‘Can you _imagine_ trying to get him to take out the garbage?’ Natasha grinned. ‘He probably has no idea how to be a functional partner. Much better to throw him back and fish for another man in the Hudson.’

‘Eew,’ Bobbi and I pulled matching faces at that, sharing our own speaking glance until the restaurant door crashed open to let Clint in.

‘Whatup bitches,’ he lifted his t-shirt up to mop at his sweaty face. ‘Just got the call to assemble. Are we killing someone? Getting smashed?’

‘Steve’s just turned Tony down for good,’ Bobbi threw a napkin at Clint’s face. ‘Don’t be grosser than you have to be.’

Clint caught the napkin by reflex, already turning a disbelieving glower on me. ‘Steve you absolute cockhead.’

‘No, no!’ Bobbi waved her arms at him, though even an idiot could’ve told her heart wasn’t quite in it. ‘It was the right call. We’re happy for Steve, Clint.’

I blinked at Natasha and Bucky, wishing I could think they were on my side. Natasha narrowed her eyes at the painting I’d left on one of the tables.

‘That’s the original, isn’t it? You complete tit, why have you put an original Klee against the wall that imbecile Wade slopped a tureen of borscht down?’

I made an unintentional noise in the back of my throat and Clint flailed at me like a muppet.

‘Steve, this is ONCE IN A LIFETIME CINDERELLA SHIT, OK?!’ he gestured at the painting, then the door, then the wonky light fitting Natasha had never gotten around to fixing. ‘ _Tony Stark_ asked you out. Mega rich, obnoxiously handsome superstar asks you out, you don’t tell him to fuck off!’

‘It _was_ , uh, very nice?’ I dropped my head into my hands, the emotional tornado touching down again, tearing my fragile resolve to pieces. ‘I mean, he _is_ an actor. He clearly knows how to deliver a line-’

I glanced up to matching pitying-irritated stares from all four of them.

‘...but why would he?’ I groaned and stared at the painting I’d adored since before I could talk. The painting that a gorgeous, generous, brave man had bought just because he knew I’d love it. I dropped my face back into my hands. ‘Why would he have said he was just a guy standing in front of another guy asking for a chance at love… fucking hell, I made the wrong choice, didn’t I?’

Through my fingers I peered at my friends as they solemnly chorused ‘yes’.

‘Oh god,’ I dragged a shuddering breath past the lump forming in my throat, on the verge of panic. I had no way of contacting Tony to tell him how phenomenally I’d fucked up and he was going to get snatched up by Ryan Reynolds or Johnny Storm or someone. ‘I’ve got to get to Alkali Lakes!’

The tablecloth beside me twitched and Wade rolled out into a “draw me like your French girls” sprawl at my feet. I’d long since given up on startling when he materialised, so I just glared.

‘I’ve been waiting for this day, Steve,’ he grinned up at me and twirled a set of car keys around his finger.

Continuing the mildly creepy synchronicity, Bucky, Natasha, Bobbi and even Clint shouted horrified protests. Wade didn’t even blink. And hell, the visceral horror everyone rightly had of getting into a van commonly known as the “Sketchmobile 2000” with Wade behind the wheel was nothing to the growing panic I was feeling about missing my shot. I made the only possible choice and picked Wade up by his belt.

‘You know where the hotel is?’

Wade’s eyebrows danced like epileptic caterpillars. ‘Love will guide us there.’

‘How about we let _Google_ guide us there?’ Natasha said, tapping away at her phone. ‘And Wade? Obey at least sixty per cent of the road rules, hmm? Don’t fuck Steve’s chances up by landing us all in a jail cell.’

‘I...am… _wounded_ ,’ Wade twisted out of my grip and darted for the door. ‘As though the cops have ever caught me.’

We piled into the van with the bare minimum of Greek Chorusing and fuss. The Sketchmobile 2000 was always the most obvious thing on the street; a panel van with vibrant art on the sides that was somehow work safe and not simultaneously. This week it was a lithe young man in red and black lycra dangling from the Empire State. Much loving detail had gone into rendering the young man’s backside, less into the skyline. I clamped down on the impulse to offer Wade advice on perspective for the next iteration and climbed into the back of the van. Bucky, Clint, Bobbi and Natasha piled in after me. Wade didn’t even wait for the door to close before he swerved into the street and shot towards Marcy Avenue.

It was some brand of Asian vehicle that was only about two thirds the width of an American car, so we had the bizarre experience of being cramped in a roomy car. Wade drove exactly like I’d expected him to, cornering so hard it felt like Clint’s elbow was going to need to be surgically removed from my ribs and braking hard enough to lift the rear axle entirely off the road.

‘Left up here,’ Bobbi yelled, one hand braced against the roof, the other clawed into my shoulder as she tried to get a good look at the street. ‘It’ll be quicker-’

‘Not this time of day,’ Natasha cut in. ‘Swing around the Navy Yard-’

Bobbi made a rude noise, echoed by Clint. ‘We want to get there _today_ -’

Wade braked, accompanied by the wild honkings of a thousand New York drivers three nanoseconds after an obstacle inconveniences them, and twisted around to face us.

‘ _SHUT UP!_ ’ he hooked his elbows into his headrest and gave us a crazed glare. ‘Or I will turn this van around and go burn Disneyland down! Driver navigates!’

Bobbi and Natasha exchanged a look that promised retribution in Wade’s future, but they both sat down and mimed zipping their lips. Wade kept the glare up for a moment, then grinned and wriggled back around to put his hands back at ten-and-two.

We pulled up in front of Alkali Lakes ten minutes later, having heard language from other drivers I’d never encountered before as Wade blithely swung between lanes and shot through more than one red light. I dived out and raced up to the front desk, Wade and the rest of them hot on my heels.

Logan was on duty, scowl and whiskers still firmly attached. He narrowed his eyes at me and stood up.

‘Logan,’ I said, attempting a smile that felt sickly and flat.

‘He’s not here,’ Logan said, folding his arms. ‘Checked out this morning.’

I felt my stomach drop. I was too late.

Logan made a discomforted noise at whatever my face was doing and beckoned me closer. He leaned over the desk when I moved closer and muttered ‘the shiny ass is holdin’ a press conference in the Bowery. Was s’posed to start in about fifteen minutes, so ya still got time.’

Overcome with gratitude, I grabbed Logan’s face in both hands and pressed an ecstatic kiss to his hairy cheek. He growled, but didn’t shove me away.

‘I only let _real_ pubes in my mouth, not face pubes,’ was all the warning either of us got before Wade elbowed me out of the way and planted a kiss right on Logan’s lips.

_That_ one Logan _did_ fight, and it was a slightly bloody thirty seconds later that we were back in the Sketchmobile 2000 heading towards Manhattan.

Traffic in New York can be a nightmare; gridlock and one-way streets and screaming matches making the very concept one to be avoided like a mutated plague. It turns out, however, that having a deranged driver and a vehicle two thirds the width of others makes everything run a little more quickly, if much more terrifying.

‘I am in the service of _TRUE LOVE!_ ’ Wade bellowed out the window at a taxi driver who took exception to Wade scraping between said cab and a parked Toyota to shoot through a set of lights that were turning red. We slalomed between I don’t know how many cars at breakneck speed all the way across the Manhattan Bridge, then Wade stomped on the brakes and swore.

‘What, what is it?’ I had to fight all four of my friends to try and get a look out the windscreen. There was a steady stream of cars heading North on Bowery, refusing to let us merge.

‘Right,’ Clint said behind me. ‘My turn.’

I turned when the back door opened to watch Clint climb out into the street. He gave me a thumbs up and a grin, slammed the door and marched right out into the traffic with his hands up like a traffic cop. The cab he’d stopped leaned on his horn and shouted some very rude things in Arabic, but Clint just beckoned Wade on before replying in kind.

‘I _like_ your roomie,’ Wade said over his shoulder at me as he shot into the newly-created gap. ‘Reminds me of me when I was younger.’

****

I dived out of the Sketchmobile 2000 the moment Wade slowed down in front of the Bowery and charged through the lobby. The desk clerk yelled something after me, but I could hear a mob of voices shouting questions down the hall. It had to be the press conference.

I stopped at the door to catch my breath and straighten my clothing and hair, then I slipped into the back of a crowd of reporters and cameras aimed at Tony and Pepper seated behind a table on a raised dais. Tony was looking distracted and tired; probably not entirely because of me, but I kicked myself anyway.

‘Will this have repercussions on the Justice League’s release?’ someone shouted.

‘Tony will, as he stated in the release you are holding Mr Leeds,’ Pepper said, aiming a sharp smile at the reporter. ‘Be finishing all pre-existing commitments. This sabbatical simply means he will not be entering into any new projects for a year. Yes, Ms Everhart?’

I craned over the crowd to see an elegant blonde lower her hand and lean forward. ‘Is there a basis to the rumour that Mr Stark is retreating from the spotlight because of Carol Danvers’s new relationship with Jim Rhodes? Losing his long-term girlfriend to his best friend can’t have been easy.’

‘Well, you know from easy, Christine,’ Tony shot back at her with a brittle smile. Pepper laid a restraining hand on his arm, but the damage was done. Christine’s own smile grew sharp and she continued, ignoring the low and sexist blow.

‘If _that_ rumour’s baseless, perhaps you’re feeling the need to go lick your wounds after that weird little incident in Williamsburg?’ Christine held her recorder out. ‘You do know it’s OK to be gay, Tony? It’s the 21st Century, you don’t need to do another stint in rehab.’

Tony just gave her another tight-lipped smile and slipped his sunglasses on. ‘I think we’ve got time for one more before I’m officially done with this. Pepper?’

I shouldered my way forward, hand raised and heart in my throat. I saw Pepper’s slight frown as she recognised me and leapt at my chance.

‘Better Homes and Gardens would like to know whether Mr Stark has any hope of reconciliation with a past fling?’ I watched Tony’s face as he startled, recognising my voice. I was also peripherally aware of the reporters around me muttering in a mix of confusion and dawning recognition, but I wasn’t about to throw away my chance. ‘Perhaps a past fling who had been a cowardly dipshit who now realises their idiocy might want to know about Mr Stark’s dipshit-forgiveness policy.’

Tony let out a small laugh and pushed his sunglasses up into his hair. ‘Yes,’ he said, smile crooked and _real_ as he locked gazes with me. ‘I believe my dipshit policy is pretty forgiving; with my history it’d have to be.’

I beamed, the tense panic I’d been holding in for hours running out of my body as Tony grinned at me. I ignored the sudden barrage of camera flashes going off, a thousand supernovas set on capturing the best moment of my life.

****

We decided on a Spring wedding (well, Pepper and Natasha teamed up and decided _for_ us) and immediately upon the announcement six different magazines got in a bidding war for the exclusive.

‘We don’t have to sell them to anyone,’ Pepper said one night when Tony was looking a little more wild around the eyes than usual. ‘You don’t need the money.’

‘But they’ll cover it regardless,’ Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. I settled my hand over the back of his neck and squeezed the tight muscles. ‘Even if they have to use button cams and long, long range lenses.’

‘Then we’ll sue them into the ground,’ Pepper said. ‘We can hire security and make it work if you want privacy.’

Tony glanced at me. I tried to project as much “with you no matter what” as I could with my face and he laughed.

‘Vogue,’ he said, holding the bid out for Pepper to take. ‘Donate the fee to Astrea and make sure they put that on the cover.’

‘Will that be all, Mr Stark?’ Pepper raised an eyebrow and a corner of her mouth, tone fond and approving.

‘That will be all, Ms Potts,’ Tony said back, a longstanding call-and-response I thought was _adorable_.

She slipped out of the room and I heard the front door snick closed a moment later. I rubbed my thumb into the tight line of Tony’s trapezius and he groaned. I shifted and nudged him so we were both sideways on the couch, my legs bracketing him. I settled my hands on his shoulders and began to rub. He melted into my hands with a sigh that seemed a little heavy.

‘If any of this is not what you want,’ I said, working a particularly stubborn knot. ‘I mean, I’d be happy to register at City Hall. I know people _expect_ the big party, but we don’t have to do what they want.’

‘We kinda do, though,’ Tony said, twisting for a soft kiss. ‘High-profile gay weddings are their own kind of activism, letting kids know it’s OK, and I’m not averse to leveraging my fame for a good cause. And I am _not_ giving up the chance to see you in a dove grey morning suit, mister!’

‘No argument here,’ I gave up on the attempted backrub and pressed my palm over Tony’s sternum. ‘On either of your points.’

‘We’re having an entirely private honeymoon, though,’ Tony grinned, leaning back into me to press his arse against my crotch. ‘Private island, porn production supply of lube, clothing totally banned.’

‘Is that so?’ I shifted my hand over to a nipple and rubbed. ‘Just you and me, no interruptions-’

‘No clothes,’ Tony insisted, leaning his head back on my shoulder to press a wet kiss behind my jaw. ‘Just a month of fucking on the beach.’

I grinned and flicked his pants open one-handed, slipped my fingers around his balls as Tony cursed and hitched up to shove his pants all the way off. I stroked him slowly, my other hand still rubbing at his nipple through his shirt, hips canted forward to press my own trapped erection against Tony’s perfect arse. It was heavenly and torturous and I wanted it to last forever.

Forever’s a long time, though, and it was probably only about five minutes before Tony’s hands clenched on my knees and he came with the surprised gasp I was never going to get tired of. I loosened my grip on his cock and slid my other hand down over his belly button to hold him close.

‘God,’ Tony said when he’d come through the warm fug of orgasm. ‘Let go, I have to get my mouth on you right now.’

Like I was ever going to argue with that. I let Tony get up, already undoing my pants as he settled on his knees. He curled his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and pulled them and my pants down. I hissed as my cock slapped against my stomach, cool air an almost painful stimulus for the three seconds before Tony’s lips closed around it and my world narrowed to wet heat and his gorgeous eyes staring up at me.

He took it slow, sliding down and sucking like we had all the time in the world. I brushed my thumb over his cheek, down to the corner of his mouth and back again. To think I’d almost tanked my chance at this.

Tony took my other hand and placed it on the back of his head, gave me a wink and slid all the way down. I could feel his throat working around me and I couldn’t help tangling my fingers in his hair and thrusting just a little. Tony groaned, pressed his tongue against the underside of my cock and a knuckle into the space behind my balls. I swore and shot off like the fourth of July, not even able to give him a tap on the shoulder for warning.

‘Ho-ly,’ I gasped as Tony let me slip out of his mouth. ‘Sorry, sorry, are you OK?’

Tony grinned, swallowed obviously, then licked his lips. ‘Honeybunch, _never_ apologise for what you just did.’

He crawled into my lap and we spent a happy, lazy while making out until there was the scrape of a key in the front door.

‘Shit, Clint!’ I dumped Tony onto the cushions and grabbed my pants, struggling into them and trying to kick Tony’s to him at the same time. By the time I’d managed to get my pants the right way round, Tony was lounging on the couch with clothes straightened. Practice with quick costume changes, I thought with fond irritation. His hair was still sticking every which way, though, and his lips were slick and red and obviously-abused.

‘How you bitches feel about Ethiopian for-’ Clint was saying as he came in, then he froze. ‘Aw, come _on_ you two! You got a room _right there!_ ’

‘Up a whole flight of stairs is hardly “right there”, Barton,’ Tony sprawled a little harder, grinning. ‘And Ethiopian sounds great.’

Clint turned and banged his head on the door frame a few times, then passed me the takeout menu.

****

The wedding (and the honeymoon) went almost exactly as planned. Oh, Namor Rex crashed, berating Tony for forgetting to inform his best man of the event (Tony’s _actual_ best man, Jim Rhodes spent the entire day making sly asides to Tony about being benched). His speech was a marvel of self-promotion and hyperbole that went viral immediately after Peter uploaded his cell phone footage.

And Wade _did_ insist on being the flower girl, though he at least came with a tutu he already owned. The Vogue photographer had a field day with him.

_And_ Pepper did drag me onto the dance floor to give me The Talk about treating Tony right, though afterwards she patted my cheek and admitted it was just for form’s sake. I’m pretty sure Clint and Natasha tag-teamed Tony for The Talk on my behalf, given his slight skittishness around them after we’d cut the cake.

But it wouldn’t have been our friends and family if things hadn’t gone a little quirky. All in all, I wouldn’t change a single thing.

****

I sold Clint the house with the blue door for a dollar as soon as we got back from the private island., and Tony and I bought a fixer upper on the corner. We've been arguing over paint colours and appropriate numbers of wall sockets, and fielding amused looks from all our friends.

Lately I've been thinking of expanding our family. Natasha and Bucky finalised their adoption of the most adorable little girl last month, her bright smiles and chubby little hands working on stealing everyone’s hearts. Tony gets this soft look whenever we see her.

Mentally I've dubbed the room overlooking the back garden the Nursery. I'm confident Tony will agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES this took longer than anticipated! Apologies to anyone familiar with New York driving, I just wildly Google Maps’d it and hope it’s not too outrageously wrong. The charity Tony donates the exclusive fee to is the Astrea Lesbian Foundation for Justice, a global charity with a specific aim at providing funding for lesbians and women of colour. Feel free to yell at me here or on tumblr (meh-guh.tumblr.com) or twitter (@meh_guh) for all your venting needs/if you want to prompt and pin your hopes on me finishing a thing before 2050

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the phone number contains a really dumb joke; a batch of internet cookies for anyone who figures it out ^_^
> 
> Notting Hill is, of course, a Richard Curtis film, so the references to him are intended as an homage.
> 
> Incidental characters will be drawn from the Marvel Universe, but that should really be in the realm of bonus feature or in joke rather than anything that will cause confusion amongst those unfamiliar with the likes of Jennifer Walters or Bobbi Morse. If anything's confusing, drop me a line and I'll see what I can do to sort it out ^_^
> 
> As always, my Tumblr (meh-guh.tumblr.com) or my LJ (meh_guh.livejournal.com) are available for comments, queries, or just conversation as well as the comments section here.


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